River Writing

It must have been about 4:00 when the roosters started. By 5:00I had given them names. There was Elvis, whose "doo" was always flat; Johnny, who didn't even "doodle," he just "cock-a-dooed;" and Sid, who sounded like an old man clearing his throat.

At 5:30 the chanting monks marched through town followed by a menagerie of squealing pigs, clucking hens, and barking dogs. This, of course, upset the roosters, who were forced to increase their volume to compete. Then came the Lao synth-pop. And to keep time for this symphony? The slooow LOUD clang of a gong.

We got on the river quite early today.

But the story of how we wound up in Pak Lay is interesting. First off, that strange noise I mentioned in the previous post was actually a major mechanical problem that required us to take the engine out and bring it to a mechanic who completely disassembled, fixed, and reassembled the motor.


The engine is REALLY heavy.



Between the engine fixing and our time on the banks making new floorboards and doing some minor hull repairs, we had become pretty popular with the locals. We had even become friends with a Lao man named Vong who thought that our little adventure was pretty cool (I think, he didn't speak English). After a day of driving around in Vong's Tuktuk to get wood, nails, etc... we decided to take him out to dinner.

You have to understand, Vong is a bit of a playa.

At dinner, it became clear that Vong was having a bit of a midlife crisis. He is 44, has two kids and a pregnant wife, and I think that he was really feeling antsy to get out of Luang Prabang because he asked if he could join us to Vientiane. After making it clear that he was our friend and not our hired guide, we enthusiastically welcomed our fourth captain.

The next night, before we left, Vong came to our guesthouse at about 8 frantically gesturing for us to get in his Tuktuk.

We got in his Tuktuk.

We drove for 5 minutes and suddenly stopped. Vong frantically gestured for us to buy a chicken.

We bought a chicken.

We drove for 5 minutes and suddenly stopped. Now we should buy a flower. Fine.

Then we drove into the middle of nowhere, which is apparently where Vong lives, because he directed us into his house where his entire family was waiting to perform a Basi Ceremony.

From what I could gather, a Basi ceremony is some sort of good luck/safe travels ritual where a bunch of Lao people make you eat the chicken you just bought and then tie ropes around your wrists while chanting at you in Lao. Whatever it was, it felt like a very proper sendoff, and the next morning we were ready to get back on the river.



My nose is the same color as his shirt!



We waved goodbye to our fanclub and were back on the river the next morning. We spent the first night on the beach by a small village, where the villagers gathered in a circle around our campfire to silently stare as we cooked and ate. After about an hour of this, one of the villagers looked at us and said what I'm sure were his only English words: "byebye," at which point they all turned around and went back to their huts on the hill.

There were 35 people watching us when I counted

That is, until about 9 pm, when an old woman came down with two teenage girls, both of whom had clearly gotten dressed up for the occasion. I don't know what they wanted, possibly husbands, but after half an hour of staring, gestured conversation, and giggling, they left.

The next morning, as the four of us (don't forget that Vong is still with us!) were packing to leave, one of the men from the village came to ask if HE could join us as far as his home down town the river, though his already-packed suitcase gave us a hint about what he thought our answer would be. Of course, we said yes. After all, it's not every day you get to start the Mekong's only free taxi service.

We spent 8 hours on the river that day, and we came up with some interesting ways to pass the time. I took up woodcarving. 

The flag of the sinking princess etched into a paddle. I want this for a tatoo.

We tried to go tubing behind the boat with our giant pan, but Woksurfing didn't work as we had envisioned.

Woksurfing!

Meanwhile Vong chainsmoked cheap Lao cigarettes like a madman.

Let me explain: I was getting a really bad sunburn on my nose and this was the only hat that fit my stupidly big head. We had to drive really fast though because the guy from the Village People wanted it back.

When we made it to Paklay, the town where this story began, we were warmly greeted by our fare's family and friends, who were all very appreciative of our taxi service. We had 4 or 5 people offer to host us for the night, and gave us food and beer. It is amazing that even though the average Lao person only knows about 5 words of English, the ALL know how to shout "FINISH!" if you take more than 30 seconds drinking your beer.

The rest of today will be spent on the river with Lao on our left and Thailand to the right. We will find a place to camp and should make it to Vientiane tomorrow.

(This post was written in my journal and transcribed, btw)